Responsibilities
by 157 yrs
Summary: -Complete- In a world where Valentine wins, Clary is held at the mercies of her older, demented brother and his obsession with her surrender. Warning: Disturbing Incestuous Themes
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don;t own The Immortal Instruments Series

"Clary." The word was spoken so softly. Jonathan leaned over his sister's broken form. The chains holding up her arms and the support of the prison's wall were all that kept her from falling over.

She wasn't responding and his demon senses had to strain to hear her heart beat. However, when his breath whisked at her dirty, filth caked, red hair she jerked up with a sudden energy that impressed even him.

"Dear sister, here I thought you were dying on me." He told her casually. Clary shook her head over and over. _No! No No!_

"Have you decided to be cooperating today?" He asked her, pleasantly. He waited a few minutes for an answer, but when it became apparent that she wasn't going to speak or look at him for that matter – he lost his patience. His wrist took hold of her chin and forced her face into his direction. He smiled a little as she fought him.

It had been over a year and still her spirit was barely broken. He admired her for her strength, although he knew it that it wouldn't last.

"Answer me." He demanded coldly, trying to force his will on her mind. Still she fought him, refusing to open her eyes. His fingers dug into her jaw line. Clary whimpered and tried to pull away from him. The chains encircling her wrist kept her from moving far.

His fingers twitched slightly and her jaw cracked under the pressure. Clary cried out in pain,

"No!"

Jonathan sighed and pulled away from her. His father was going to be disappointed, not so much with his sister's refusal to cooperate, but more with the fact that he had lost control again. Valentine had entrusted him with her care.

Ignoring his sister's muffled sobs, he walked to a table on the opposite side of the small, dark prison. On top of the table rested a small collection of metal tools that ranged from tongs and knives to thin metal threads and scissors with claws.

"Too bad." He said shaking his head in sorrow.

Confidently he walked back over to her after picking up the metal thread. It made a nice, small but clean whip.

His sister brought her knees up to her chest, knowing what was coming. Jonathan flicked his wrist and the metal whip lashed out with a great hiss and sank into Clary's skin. He watched in satisfaction as a small but deep crimson line of blood drew on her arm.

"You're very brave to endure this in silence." He told her indifferently. Again he flicked his wrist. The whip slashed itself against her shoulder. Clary tightened up into a ball, long ago learning that protecting her face was the most important thing.

"I can see why father had you spared. When you do step forward to fulfill your destiny, our family we'll be unstoppable." He wasn't surprised when she didn't respond. Clary didn't like to talk. So he continued, searching his head for something that might interest her.

"The Lightwoods were finally brought in last night." He thought out loud. Bringing his arm back, the whip crashed down on top of her head with a particularity strong force. Clary shuddered, refusing to show her face.

"Father had hope that they would have been more opened to negotiations – don't worry dear sister you know I won't kill you." He interrupted himself when Clary started to fall into hysterics. He watched as she felt the wound on the top of her head. There was a lot of blood.

Enticed by her, Jonathan licked his lips and forced himself to continued.

The whip came down hard on her side, cutting through the fabric of her dirty gown. The whiteness of it had faded to a harsh gray. However, until she swore allegiance to the family – or was summoned by their father Jonathan saw no reason to have her garments replaced.

"Where was I? Oh yes – but no one wanted to listen. Father had them all executed. The younger ones died quickly." He added as an after thought. He smiled in satisfaction when he smelled her tears. Turning the grip of the thread in his hands, he forced the whip around her ankle. He tugged on it until he heard the bone and muscle tear from it's place.

Finally his sister screamed. And it was beautiful.

Satisfied with his work, he placed the whip back on the table and approached her.

"Once we hunt down that ungrateful werewolf there will be no more resistance. Then you will see. With no one left to turn to you'll have to join us." His voice took on an inhuman edge as he growled out the words.

He frowned when he realized that she still hadn't looked at him. _And he did so like the color of her eyes._

"Would you look at me if I was more like your Jace?" He asked, placing a hand under her chin.

Clary trembled at the barest of contact with him.

"Please don't." She begged softly. He didn't respond.

Her pain induced mind was suddenly transported to another place in another time. Images began to bombard her...

Jonathon was fighting under an orange diseased sky. His power rippled with such magnitude that Jace was knocked of his feet...

"Oh, heaven's no!" Clary cried, squirming under the scene her brother was forcing into her head. Jonathan smiled. It never got old, he could show her Jace's death every day for the rest of her life and she would still act with such horror. He loved it.

The scene ended when Jace was run through with Jonathan's bare hands. Bare hands with black claws, that is.

Clary turned away calling out to her mother, to Luke and Jace begging for them to come save her.

"You're so pathetic, Clarissa." He hissed in disgust, even as he took pity on her.

Leaning over, he pulled the hysteric girl closer to him, so that she had to lean against him. With her mind shattered again, there was little to no resistance. He liked it when she was like that. It made it easier for him to get closer.

"But this isn't you're fault, my dear one." He told her softly. Clary stifled a cry when he kissed her forehead.

"Stunted by your teachings and moral. It will take some time to undo the damage..." He trailed off as his eyes settled on her jaw. His demon blood had some healing properties but that didn't include mending bone. He stared at her wistfully before his attention digressed to her other wounds. The blood smelled so delicious, his body began to react instinctively.

Clary cried out again, when her brother flipped her onto her back and pinned her there.

Her eyes opened in shock. Vibrant green eyes met lustful black. He was panting like an animal.

"If only you had the power to heal like I do." His word came out like an animal, making him sound more like the demon he was. His mouth lowered to her arm where she bled from the whip. He licked it clean, like some sort of predator.

"You know it will all be over sooner if you just surrender." _Just surrender to me._

His sister shivered underneath him. There was no telling what he would do or how far he would go. He was getting bolder.

His hands skimmed over her belly and hips while his mouth sought hers out. Clary struggled against him but she was a lot weaker. His mouth dominated hers with pain as his tongue invaded her mouth and his teeth dug into her lips until he drew more blood.

He held her like that until she passed out from lack of oxygen.

"You'll see. Everything will turn out, sister of mine." Laying a hand on her temple, his powers forced health into Clary's veins. Her cuts closed over and healed. He circulated waste and infections from her system while he nourished her body with energy equivalent to that of food and water.

She was his responsibility, after all. It was the only way he knew how to show her his love.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mortal Instruments series

She was sure that she had gotten away. Her broken body lay twisted and mangled on the lawn. Blood seeped out and glistened in the sun. She didn't move.

Jonathon watched his sister calmly from his second story window. Albeit, his broken window.

"Shall I retrieve her?" A humble servant offered. Jonathan waved him away.

"No, I will do it myself." He murmured. His black eyes twinkled as they soaked in the sight below him.

His intense hearing picked up her heart beat. It was erratic. Her breathing on the other hand was very labored. He knew that she thought she had escaped, if not physically then in death. But he would not let her slip away so easily. Shaking his head condescendingly, he left his room and headed for the stairs. He liked it when she bled but not when it became a threat to her life.

Her fall hadn't projected her much. She was only a couple meters away from the estate.

When he reached her, he was a bit irritated to see that her eyes were closed. He hated it when she tried to shut him out.

"My dear sister, you thought you could escape?" He asked lightly, closing the distance between them. Clary trembled. Up close, he could see that her lip was bleeding and her head had a deep gash in it. If he could just pull the skin a little farther apart, he would be able to see her skull...

"Ah, you make me forget myself." Reaching over, he ran his finger lightly over the wound. It closed instantly. Gently, he scooped her up. Her head flopped onto his shoulder. Clary sniffed and Jonathon knew that she was still conscious enough to listen.

"Clever girl, I'll give you that. If nothing else, very bold. Father warned me of your extremities. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you threw yourself out the window. You need to be more careful next time." He scolded. There was a slight tease in his tone.

With his elbow he managed open the door to the estate. Inside, servants bustled around. No one took a second glance at Clary. She wasn't their concern.

Once inside, he took her back upstairs into the room that she had just tried to escape from – his room.

"Now, I'm going to have to clean you up." He sighed. Gently, he placed her on the bed and went to his closet. He was a little cautious that she would try to jump out again, but the severity of her injuries kept her at bay.

"Here, now don't fight me." He warned, coming over with some wet and dry towels. Clary's lip quivered, making more blood gush out. She still refused to talk to him.

Leaning in he licked her lip. Clary jerked away from him.

"See, it's things like this that make me doubt your sincerity." He told her, clearly disappointed. She had been free of her chains for six months now. Her 'surrender' was nothing but a joke. Valentine was satisfied with her cooperation – when it was needed – but Jonathon wasn't.

She still fought him tooth and nail. It was always little things that their father wouldn't notice, but he did. Like refusing to speak to him, the feeble attempts of escape, cutting off her pretty red hair, her starving herself – the list went on and on.

He would never be satisfied until she truly and unconditionally surrendered.

Coming over to the bed, he crawled have on top of her so that her legs were tangled uselessly in his.

Dabbing a cloth he brought it up to her chin. It wasn't bleeding but it was covered in dirt. He batted at it until it faded away, adding extra strength so that her chin would bruise. His other hand began to caress her arm. His touch changed from light and sensual to cruel and painful in seconds. He admired his sister for her ability to resist it all.

"Do you like it when I punish you?" He whispered. Clary growled in the back of her throat. Her eyes were shut tightly.

"You know I do this because I love you." He continued. Her green eyes snapped open at his words. They were bright and fierce...

"I hate you." She whispered suddenly.

Her words made something inside him howl in bittersweet victory. It was progress but still...

"Never say that again." His voice became coldly excited and demonic. He withdrew the hand that had been caressing her arm away and extended his disturbing long claws. He made sure that his sister was watching. Then without warning, he dragged his nails onto her torso and ripped her shirt right down the middle – making sure that he raked her tender breast and delicate skin in the process.

"I could kill you so easily." He threatened. His voice carried over his sister's cries.

Fingering through her tattered clothing his hand found her raw breast. He squeezed it mercilessly.

"What's it going to take for you to give up? What will you trade for surrender?" He growled lowly. Clary closed her eyes again and tried to push him off. The blood spilling out from her was making both of their bodies sleek.

"What's the matter? I thought you wanted to die. Just lie here a little longer with me and you will." He fought her struggles.

Suddenly Clary went still, becoming rigid underneath her brother.

Jonathon looked down at her curiously. Leaning her head back, she spit full in his face.

Hot anger began to boil in him. A black mass consumed him and Jonathon had to fight to keep it contained. He barely succeeded.

"What, do you want your angel boy instead?" He cried furiously. His voice changed suddenly so that it was Jace's voice yelling at her. All the more wrong, it still had an inhuman edge to it. As if an animal was still growling out the words right along with his.

Pulling away from her, Jonathon tugged hard on her pants until they came off of her so that she was only in her underwear.

"No, you demon!" She cried loudly. Her body absolutely refused to move, but still she managed to cnudge herself farther away from the man before her.

"Open your eyes Clary." He commanded.

Clary opened her eyes, frightened and alarmed. The sight above her took her breath away.

She knew it wasn't really him, but the likeness was so real.

Jace stood above her in all of his beauty and glory. The hair was perfect, it curled and waved unruly around his shoulders. His tanned arms were covered in the familiar runes that he wore. His muscles toned and flexed as he moved to take off his shirt...

The only thing that marred the vision of her lover was the grotesque look in his eyes. It was all wrong. The eyes were still black. His face was fashioned in a deep, animalistic snarl. It was Jace's face with Jonathon's expression.

He threw his shirt hard on the floor.

"What's the matter, Clary?" Jace asked in the wrong voice.

"Aren't you happy to see me?" Shadows started flowing around, no, in his skin.

He unzipped his pants. Clary shook her head, trying to resist but unable to as he crawled over to her on the bed. Leaning in he kissed her, and oh heavens it was exactly the way Jace was so supposed to kiss her.

She felt light headed as he gravely laid her back down on the bed. Her vision started to swim.

Half way through the kiss something changed, though. Then Jace was biting her hard in the kiss. Clary jerked away.

Jace's expression was a deep hatred.

"What if he wasn't your angel boy? What if he was the demon instead? Would that make me your angel?" He asked, in Jonathon's voice.

The he was hurting her. His hands were all over her body. The blood was every where. His hands were rough and unforgiving. They groped and pinched and prodded and cut every where.

"You're going to die, Clary." Jace told her, biting down hard on her nipple. Clary hissed as Jace moved so that he was straddling her waste.

Bringing both of his hands up, he pushed his finger nail into the center of his palm and slashed it so that it bled. It took a moment for Clary to realize what he was doing.

"Wait, don't!" She begged.

Jace brought his bloody palm up to her lips.

"Maybe if you were more like me than you wouldn't want him. I don't know what it is, but after tonight it won't matter." He told her as a matter of fact. His palm smothered her mouth and though she tried to fight it some blood leaked through. It was the most rancid, foul tasting substance she had ever tasted. She gagged.

"Swallow it." He commanded and under his pressure she did.

"Not only will it keep you alive, but now you won't even be able to escape me in your dreams." He told her. Clary watched bleakly as he slid between her her legs.

Something dark and heavy settled inside her chest. Closing her eyes, she let it pull her under.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mortal Instruments

Jonathon closed his eyes, relishing the memory of the sound of his sister retching in the lavatory. It was such a shame that he had to put the Rune of Quietude on her. His father was coming at last to visit him and he knew for sure that Valentine would not appreciate the same sentiment.

"Wait here. I will be back." He told Clary from her pathetic position curled around the toilet. Without waiting for her acknowledgment, he shut the door to the room and locked it.

With his advanced hearing he knew his father was coming into the manner door. Hurriedly, he made it to the manor's lobby just in time.

"Father, you came. It has been so long since your last visit. How goes the purges?" Jonathon greeted his father warmly. He went so far as to grip his father's forearm in welcome. Valentine grasped his son's own arm with equal familiarity.

"My son, you have nothing to fear. The purges go as expected. There have been some casualties but for the most part the enemy falls in multitudes." Valentine's low voice rolled off the manor's walls.

The two walked from the lobby into the recession room. Jonathon knew his father had no patience for formal visits. Instead of offering Valentine a seat on one of the elaborate couches, he guided his father to his private office hidden behind a wall in the recession room.

"This is acceptable." Valentine allowed, as he praised the secret office.

"No one comes here unless I allow it." Jonathon told his father proudly.

The office was small. Every wall had a bookshelf in front of it. There were no windows. The carpet was a simple red velvet. The ceiling consisted of a giant red atlas of the mundane's world. A desk sat in the very middle of the room. It was brown oak with neatly filed papers stacked on top of it.

"Please." Jonathon offered the desk's chair to his father. It was the only available chair in the room. Without hesitation, Valentine took possession of the seat and began to sift through his son's papers.

"Jonathon I have a new assignment for you." He told his son, never taking his eyes off the desk.

Jonathon perked up at his father's words. He was tired of sitting on the side lines and processing eliminated targets.

"I want you to travel to the human realm and sever the ties it has with the realm of Faerie. You must wipe out all those non human taints with connections to Faerie. Take your sister and leave Idris on the following morn. Heaven has blessed me so that you might succeed." Valentine told his son proudly.

Jonathon bowed his head and licked his lips in anticipation. At last he would slaughter...

"Speaking of, where is Clarissa?" His father asked after a moment. Jonathon sighed inwardly. He knew she would be a topic of interest to his father.

"She is unwell, father." He began slowly. It was difficult to lie to his father, as Valentine was the one who taught him the skill. It was still possible however. He just needed to step carefully.

Valentine frowned.

"How so?" He demanded. Jonathon trailed around the desk so that he stood at his father's side.

"Her spirit rebels against her body. She has become sick with fighting herself." Valentine waved a hand impatiently.

"That is not my concern." He dismissed.

"But father, her own self subconscious fights her with restless nightmares." Jonathon explained.

"Nightmares?" His father asked in sudden interest. Jonathon nodded.

"Every night she is plagued by them. She thrashes around and cries out from doing her own self harm. There are cuts and bruising by her own hand. I can't leave her alone. She knows what she wants but she hides it from herself." Jonathon told his father in the sweetest of tales from his demon's tongue.

"... no matter. She has surrendered to our cause. Jonathon, I leave her in your capable hands. Time is short. I must depart now. Raziel's grace be with you, my son." Valentine offered.

"And with you, father."

Jonathon bowed deeply and watched his father go. He had been afraid to present Clary to their father. Valentine would easily see through Jonathon's illusions and know that Clary had consumed his blood. And he wasn't ready for their father to know that just yet.

It took him no time to reach the lavatory and unlock the door. His sister had not moved and inch. When she looked up at him, she shivered involuntarily. Black ooze crept out of her nose. She sniffed once, trying to suck it back in.

The green dress he had provided for her was turning brown. She didn't appreciate his gifts and let him know that by wearing as little of them as possible. The clothing reeked. She hadn't worn anything else in weeks.

At the moment, it was starting to come open at the collar. His eyes soaked in the site of her exposed flesh. Seeing his attention, Clary quickly covered herself with her hand, though it did little good. The clothing he provided just marred on the line of indecency. It was so short that he still enjoyed the full sight of her legs.

"I don't have the patience to clean you up. Wipe your mouth dear sister so that I can kiss you later. Unless you plan to vomit up more of your lunch?" He asked. His words had there desired affect. Clary hurled back over the toilet and vomited again. It was childish but he liked to see her at her most vulnerable.

After a minute he became impatient and yanked Clary to her feet by short hair. Her mouth opened in silent protest, but she could not speak.

"Hurry now, I have no time for waiting." He snapped, pushing her head into the nearby sink. The concept of a new assignment excited him. Apparently, he pushed his sister a little too hard because her head collided with the hard matter of the sink causing her forehead to split open.

Blood, almost the shade of the ooze creeping out of her nose, began to flow out of the wound. Jonathon hissed under his breath and turned on the faucet.

"I will not let you make a fool out of me, Clary. Do you understand?" He growled, thinking of his responsibilities. Clary fought silently against his hold but at last he forced her under the water.

When he felt his sister start to gag he released her and dried her off.

"This will have to do." He sighed, turning off the faucet. These days, she was such a frail little thing to look at. He almost forgot why he loved her.

She was very nearly skin and bones, unable to keep any food in. There was no light in her green eyes anymore. The fiery emeralds had dimmed to dismal, Lima bean green. Her short, unkept, red hair was cropped up to her neck now and her skin was an ugly gray, clammy color. It was almost always covered in a sheet of sweat.

No doubt their father would have noticed these things.

"If you promise not cry out profanities, I will release you from the rune." He whispered into her ear. Clary nodded and Jonathon released her.

When she could speak again, her voice was barely audible.

"When will you let me die?" She asked.

"Oh, don't worry my sweet. I would never kill you. Father's arrival has just gotten me excited. He has given us a new assignment. We leave for the human realm tomorrow. Father wants to use both of our abilities now." He felt his sister stir next to him.

"Don't fight me now, Clary. You're doing so well." She turned to look at him and despite himself, Jonathon couldn't resist placing his hands around her hips. Silently, she raised her fist and slammed it into his chest. Her forehead dipped to rest on his shoulder and then he sensed that she had passed out.

Picking up her helpless form, he carried her back up to his room and placed her on the bed. There was no telling when she would get violent. Her fits were at random.

Seeing that she was calm for the time being, he slowly stripped his sister of her green, or rather brown, gown so that she wore only her underwear. Her hidden skin revealed long deep slashes and scars. They were long and jagged. Some ran down her breasts and stomach. Others raced up her hips and legs.

Jonathon liked to think that he had given them all to her but he knew his sister had been just as responsible. Her nightmares were ruthless and while he had no real idea what they consisted of, he was sure that he was in them.

He liked to add to her terrors by coming to her bed as Jace. It was fun to twist the knife around so that she recoiled at the face of her love and longed for the one that she hated.

As if she knew he was thinking of her, Clary arched her back suddenly and twisted her neck at an odd angel. A low hiss escaped her throat and black tears started to leak out of her eyes. Her body completely rejected his blood. It escaped from her with properties of bodily fluid.

He needed to give her more.

"Jonathon." She called softly.

Hearing his name, Jonathon quickly grabbed one of his steles and went over to her. She had more energy than he thought. It looked like she wasn't ready to sleep.

"Sister." He prompted softly. Clary's eyes open and shut again. Jonathon took the stele and cut deep into his forearm. Blood splurged out and took to the blade.

"Do you love me?" She whispered in a wavering voice. Jonathon smiled softly at her.

"Of course." Kneeling on the bed, he parted her legs so that her inner thighs faced out. Clary was so used to his assaults that she didn't even try to fight him. Using the stele, he ripped her underclothing away.

"Then please, let me go." She begged. Jonathan leaned down and kissed the tender flesh over her left femoral artery. Then he moved away and kissed the right one.

"You know I could never do that." He murmured. Raising his head, he brought the bloodied stele up and struck it into her right thigh. Clary hissed in pain and grabbed a fistful of her brother's hair. But Jonathon would not be dissuaded. With a sneered grin, he twisted the stele back and forward, up and down, making the exotic marks of a rune on her flesh.

The blood turned the mark a golden black color.

"What are you doing?" Clary bit out in pain, trying to move her legs. Jonathon used his body weight to hold them down.

"Making runes to help you. I need you strong for our assignment. My blood is just an added bonus." He told her confidently. Clary arched her back. Once the rune was finished, Jonathon placed the stained stele next to him and dipped his head back down.

"Please... stop!" Clary twisted underneath him. Her hands clawed at his hair, but he would not budge. Jonathon always got what he wanted.

"Brother, please." That made him pause. She never acknowledged their relationship, never mind called him brother. He frowned and glanced up at her. Nervously, she licked her lips.

"I love you, brother." She whispered. Her voice came out whiny, but it didn't matter to Jonathon. He relished the words. His black eyes studied her and then they became impossibly shiny. He smiled and his teeth somehow became even sharper.

Quickly, he moved away from her legs and crawled up over her so that their noses almost touched.

"I know. I knew you did." He told her as a matter of fact. Then his lips encompassed hers. His hands cradled her face and his nails dug into her skin so that she bled. Clary moved her mouth more urgently against his.

Jonathan closed his eyes and allowed his sister to guide his hands her hips. Without breaking his mouth away from hers, he somehow managed to remove his shirt and undo the bindings to his pants.

"At last you've surrendered to me." He broke away, gasping excitedly. Clary's green eyes were unreadable.

"No, I love you." She corrected. Jonathon smiled and leaned back in to kiss her. She could call it whatever she wanted. To him, she had surrendered. Wordlessly, he repositioned himself above her.

"I've got to save you." She insisted against his lips but Jonathon didn't care. He was too far gone in the moment, swept away by his happiness and excitement. He sought her shoulder out and bit into it hard. Clary wrapped an arm around his middle and stretched the other one out on the bed.

Their hips clasped each other and then Jonathon froze. A tremendous cold pain sunk into the center of his neck and dragged itself strait down, slashing through his spine.

Clary grunted underneath him and moved her other arm over his back.

"Sister, what have you done?" He asked softly, his eyes wide with shock. He could feel the sharp pain and knew the stele that he had discarded on the bed, was embedded into his back. Clary must have grabbed it while he had been distracted.

Jonathon looked down at her incredulously. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears.

"Your blood his horrible in so many ways." She told him, trying to keep her voice strong. Her arm moved again and she pulled the stele away from him, only to stab him again and again and again.

"It whispered to me. Told me to wait and bide my time for the right moment. You've never given me the right moment until now." She whispered. Jonathon closed his eyes and his full weight collapsed onto her.

Clary gasped.

"Impressive sister, but it doesn't matter. I will heal." He told her peacefully. He opened his eyes and looked at her wistfully.

"You never loved me." He stated. Clary pulled the stele out of his back.

"Yes I did. I still do, and I always will." She mumbled uneasily. Then she took the stele and forced it into the back of his skull...

"Ave atque vale."


End file.
